Prepare to be confused....

Good morning / afternoon / evening and welcome to my blog, Confused in Amsterdam

Now, I may be slightly premature for 2 reasons here

1) I'm not yet in Amsterdam

2) When I get to Amsterdam, I may not be confused at all..

...in fact I may find the whole experience simply enjoyable, relaxing, educational and memorable.

I doubt it though.

.......or rather, past experience makes me automatically have doubt that it will unquestionably be amazing.

I tried moving to Paris a couple of years ago and found myself walking around miserable and desperate to go, not necessarily home, but to somewhere more familiar. The language that I wanted to embrace and improve oozed into every waking sound. I soon felt like I was walking around with an invisible goldfish bowl over my head, with the once lusted after accent sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher blubbling permanently in my ears. Even waking to the sounds of small children laughing and calling for their 'Maman' on their walk to school, made me want to lean out the window and shout in protest in my best Belfast accent.

The once exciting, glamourous, amazing bustling streets of Paris soon became crowded, scary, too hot and too everything for someone used to living at the foot of a mountain and 2 minutes from the sea.

Don't get me wrong, I love Paris and honestly; each and every person I met (and there were many) could not have done more to try and make me feel welcome. I would walk into a party with 20 people....EVERYONE would start speaking English so I didn't feel left out.

Weddings, BBQ's, picnics, evening drinks, afternoon teas, club nights, game nights, sit and talk with each other just for the sake of it nights. I was invited to parties, restaurants, social clubs, swimming, yoga, dance lessons, museums, walks, everything; you name it.

Ungrateful cow, you might think. People would give anything to have been in your shoes; I know now and I knew it then. But; it was all too much. Homesick, at whatever age, it labelled for a reason. Where I come from mightn't have all the frills of the fashion capital of the world; but it was familiar in sight, sound and smell........ And what I would have given some days to be standing on the beach, picking up dog do and cursing Harvey's backside (even though it was me who had fed him curry the night before)

So, flying home slightly agrophobic and traumatized, I knew Paris hadn't worked.

But this trip is going to be very different.